Saturday, 7 May 2016


Rough winds and tireless rains
like a graduation's uninvited guests
trouble my yearning to be romantic,
and ruin my trousers' pressed fabric!

The dust...
(O' dust of hell)
scrambled my eyeballs
despite the tough shawl,
and I couldn't see her:
the market sits twice never
this week is gone
shouldn't time take a jump?

However, she mustn't mind.
I am only a stranger amidst
wild melons, organic potatoes,
rough winds, tireless rains.
I am a mere poet alive
in dreams of mine
writing on her spectacles
just wanting nothing
but for the market to sit
twice a week:
I shall watch her smile
twice a week,
but the dust...
(O' dust of hell)
scrambled my eyeballs
and I couldn't see her once!